Marvellous Misadventures
by ArcaFeretory
Summary: Things get a little uncomfortable with an assassination attempt on a thief. But quickly escalate from there when the motives behind the contract come to light.


**This started out as a comic based on a song by Miracle of Sound over on Youtube. But comics are overly time consuming at the best of times so it'll most likely be continued ****solely as this story here. PM me if you want links to the two comic strips I got out before I became disastrously bored with the idea. Mmm... Or if you want links to the character profiles. Because I do that. Updates will be sporadic at best because I have a new favourite fandom, but if responses are positive enough I might get some more out at various intervals.**

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Perched atop the outcrop, she stared across the hills at Whiterun. Krinyolah had told her to follow her gut and she had, but she felt so confined. Also, itchy. Her fur was all squished up beneath her black and crimson uniform. In following her gut, she'd landed herself in far more trouble than she had anticipated. Apparently, hiring oneself out as a contract killer in Skyrim was unadvised. She had earned much more attention that she'd anticipated, and then, in an attempt to appease her new… acquaintances, she'd ended up in over her head.

Now, instead of doing what she wanted, she was taking orders from that bossy blonde wench down in Falkreath. This was not to her liking; not one bit. Her tail lashed against the rocks and she had to shake her head to clear it. One last contract, then she'd be done with them all. She wasn't going back; no way was she going back to that cramped lifestyle. She wanted freedom; she wanted the sky, to run across the plains, to do as she wanted rather than what some very dead woman wanted. Vulziituz wanted to be her own cat again.

Yes, she'd kill this last target, as per the contract, collect her reward from the contractor and then do what she did best: disappear. As the sun clipped the top of the mountains in the distance, Vulziituz slipped off the rocks, flickered across the hills, clambered up the supposedly impenetrable walls of Whiterun, and landed in a crouch behind Jorrvaskr.

While the lizard wasn't a Companion himself, rumour had it that he spent a good deal of his time with one of them. And a mage, too. She shuddered at the thought. Brutes she could handle, they never saw her coming, but mages… they were wily ones and most kept one eye focused on their backs. A habit most magic users adopted in Skyrim, she understood.

A woman with tattoos across her nose stalked into the courtyard and Vulziituz's tail bristled, she shrank against the wall, trying to become invisible. While she could actually make herself invisible, she prided herself on not having to. It was also exhausting, twice… maybe thrice a day was her limit if she was well rested. Presently, she was not rested and so hid in the bushes, waiting for the Nord to pass. Once the woman vanished around the far corner, Vulziituz clambered up onto the roof.

The buildings were fairly spread out in Whiterun, but Krinyolah had wanted her to be prepared for anything and had taught her a few things about magic. Shouts were not her forte, but she knew one word that had helped her escape a close call before. Her problem with Shouting was that she didn't like to make too much noise, so she tended to whisper her calls, reducing their effectiveness. Happily, however, it also didn't tire her as quickly and she could use the same Shout a number of times in quick succession. With luck, she'd only need it once.

Vulziituz hunkered down directly above the entrance to Jorrvaskr and waited. It took another hour for the sun to completely set, but when it did, an Orc burst from the building. He was dragging an Argonian by his collar and followed by a reluctant looking Breton. Her fur stood on end again when she realised the Breton was a mage. And not just any mage. From the emblem emblazoned on his coat, he was an advisor to the Arch Mage. That might present a problem.

"What a gorgeous evening it is!" boomed the Orc. "My Loredas was pretty good, now it's even better."

"Gauron, I don't think this is a good idea," said the mage. "You know how I get when I drink too much."

"So restrain yourself, Faric," replied the Orc sarcastically. "You're good at that."

The lizard was struggling vainly against Gauron's grip on his collar and Vulziituz wondered if she even needed to bother killing him. It seemed entirely possible the Orc would do it for her. As they trotted down the steps and turned the corner, heading for the Bannered Mare, Vulziituz whispered her word of power and leapt through the air in an impossible arc. She landed with practiced grace on the roof of the inn and watched them walk through the doors.

Preferring not to be seen overly much, Vulziituz pried open an upper window and slipped through, alighting in the rafters. The lizard was still protesting, but she paid their words no mind. She was however, fascinated as they chained the lizard to the bar and tied a drink to his wrist. He proved a remarkable escape artist and a bit wasteful. With a glare at the Orc, he poured the mead onto the floor. The maid gave him a nasty look.

It didn't take long for the room to get rowdy and the later it got, the drunker all the patrons became. Even the mage, who'd mentioned his inability to hold liquor earlier fell into his cup. Vulziituz wasn't sure when it happened; with so many things going on (and bad singing making her sensitive ears ring) she was finding it hard to concentrate. The next time she looked over at the Argonian, he had a dragon skull strapped to his head and another bottle of mead in his hand. Like the first, much to the irritation of the maid, this one too, ended up on the floor.

He then wrenched off the skull, shivering as he placed it on the bar. From out of nowhere, a lockpick appeared in his hand and he slid off the bar stool to the floor. Then he set about unlocking the manacle around his ankle.

It was now or never. With the exception of the barmaid and the lizard himself, everyone was too

inebriated to notice if she slipped a knife between his ribs. Onikaan and Nahkriin seemed to warm against her with the prospect of a kill.

Her last kill. She'd vanish into the countryside and never again have to look at these hideous clothes, never have to see that blonde woman's evil smile again, never have to take instruction from someone other than herself. Vulziituz was practically shaking with the excitement of it all.

Drawing her faithful knives she dropped on the Argonian without so much as a whisper.


End file.
